The Story of S, Fire
by Hideki Yuki
Summary: Twelve years after the Kira case. S is slightly insane teenager who has escaped Wammy's House. When he receives a Death Note, his visions of revenge upon the orphanage can finally come true.
1. Answer

For the past few months, I've had the strangest feeling. Something has been following me, everywhere I go. All day, all night, the back of my neck's been prickling. An invisible beast floats behind me wherever I am, staring at me. Watching.

I stood in the center of the room. It was way past midnight. This room's walls did nothing to stop the cold air biting into my skin like a crazed rabbit. What were the walls made of, paper? The wooden table was littered with stacks of sheets and folders.

The Kira Case. One man in Japan killed tens of thousands of criminals world-wide without laying a finger on any of them.

How? Did he have some sort of supernatural being under his orders? No, even that would be unlikely. The sheer amount of criminals killed and the fact that Kira paid no attention to their location cast doubt upon that. It was as though he didn't _care_ that he could kill one criminal in Japan, one in India, one in Australia, and one in Alaska simultaneously.

Maybe Kira was right. He believed that he was a god, so why couldn't he act like one? Surely it wouldn't be too hard for a god to cast judgment upon four people on four corners on the planet like Kira did.

My thoughts were halted by a sudden noise outside. My compound, the most secure in the world. Even a rogue bird can't get in without taking 10,000 volts to the heart. What business did a noise have in wanting to be heard in my compound, especially this late at night?

Hmm… I'd better check that out, I thought to myself. I dashed outside of the research room and outside the building. Like a snake.

I scanned the courtyard briefly. I noticed something outside on the ground. Something that shouldn't be there.

What is it… a notebook? It lay open halfway, face-down on the damp grass, as though it had been discarded there carelessly. Its spine was in the air, as black as the rest of the cover.

I stepped over to it, the wet grass dampening my socks. Damn it.

As I touched it, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Maybe external heating would be a good idea.

I opened it in my hands, returning to the heated depths of my compound. I flicked open the first page. It was black, with a messy white scrawl inked into it.

_The human whose name is written in this note shall die_.


	2. Meeting

So Kira killed with a notebook of death. I now have a notebook of death. Isn't that just splendid?

Now, what to do with it? I could go down the whole "killing criminals" path for the good of society, but that's a bit cliché. It's been done before.

I stood right right at the back of the Yellow Box Warehouse, feeling the rough metal scratching me through my shirt. But I didn't care. I had a score to settle.

As the large metal door begin to screech open I almost jumped right out of my skin. But I calmed right back down as I turned and saw Near's skulking figure walk towards me. His silver hair bounced atop his head like a broom. We were both children of Wammy's House, so obviously we thought alike. At least four hours remained before the scheduled meeting time, but I suppose the pair of us wanted to scope out the warehouse for any potential traps.

I unclipped the metal buckle on the top of my bag. Its contents spilled open eagerly. A ball of black string, a severed doll's hand. Just some of my trinkets.

I reached right into the bottom and retrieved the black notebook. It was by far the most valuable thing I'd collected in my lifetime. I flipped it open, and found a pen on the pile of my items.

By the time I'd located my page and was ready to write, the silver-haired man was nearing the centre of the empty space. He was tailed by tall four bodyguards donning black suits and black ties. At the belts of each one hung a leather holster wrapped around the gleaming metal of a gun.

All Near carried was a small assortment of colourful plastic toys. A red train, as long as his forearm. A blue one, slightly shorter. A yellow one, the shortest of them all. And a few action figures to go with them. Even at thirty years of age, Near hadn't outgrown his little habit.

Today Near thought trains would be fun. I looked at his face with my cold, blank stare. I bit my nail idly as I scribbled the name that floated above his head in large, red letters.

_NATE RIVER_

Near's socked feet stopped in their tracks. He released the toys, and they clattered to the ground in some sort of sick rainbow. He managed to save one from falling. He tossed the long, red train in his hands, as though contemplating something huge.

Suddenly, he snapped it in half. The sound echoed in the empty warehouse. He seemed to possess an extraordinary strength for someone of his meagre size. One half clattered to the ground with the other toys. In his hand, Near held a red plastic dagger, the protruding tip sharp and deadly.

Yeah, Near was right. Toy trains are great fun. He raised the sharp fragment to his neck, in some kind of dazed state, and plunged it into his throat with a sickening crunch.

"Perhaps L was right," he managed to gasp before the spewing blood silenced him.

The four bodyguards fell one after the other, impaling themselves with a pen, a sharp rock. Whatever they had handy.

I giggled like a little schoolgirl at this man's death. Near, whom all of Wammy's House wanted to be. Whom I had hated with all of my heart.

I stepped over to him, careful to avoid the rapidly pooling blood. I had just bought these sneakers, and they were bloody comfortable. I didn't want to make that literal.

I bent down and dipped my long finger into the warm, sticky blood. I walked a good ten meters away from him and wrote the first large letter. I stepped back over and continued my message. When I had finished, I was satisfied. This should give the investigators a good fright. The Kira case was only twelve years old, after all. There's no way I could let someone as smart as Kira himself be forgotten.

I wiped my hand on my jeans and grinned. The heavy door of the warehouse screeched shut behind me, sealing shut my message for the people unlucky enough to stumble upon it.

_KIRA WILL NEVER DIE_


	3. Roger

"N is dead."

Roger's words were a knife brought down upon Hachi's heart. Tears didn't hesitate to run down his soft, pink cheeks. Despite having fifteen years of Wammy's House under his belt, Hachidori could have passed for a ten-year-old. The ball in his hand tumbled to the ground before he did. The rubber bands covering its exterior blurred as it rolled into the corner. Hachi fell to his knees, a small puddle of salty tears appearing on the lush brown carpet before him. Even his jet black hair, usually gelled upright, was wilted, a dying flower.

Origin opened his hand, revealing a small, intricately folded bird of orange paper. A small breeze was elicited from the older boy's lips. The crane almost _flew_ across the room, landing upright on Roger's large oak desk. A small spider was dozing lazily in a cage next to where the bird landed. Awoken by the intruding origami figure, the spider clawed at the side of its barred enclosure.

"What happened?" Origin asked. He stood at the back of the room, his idle expression unchanged by the news that had devastated his younger friend.

Roger walked over to the fallen rubber band ball. "N was murdered. He clawed his own eyes out with a toy train." Roger's silver hairs were outlined in the sunlight that streamed from the window.

Hachi had been reduced to a heap on the carpet. Tears still dripped from his eyes, like an old tap that hadn't been tightened properly.

"There were several peculiar details at the scene. The case calls for professionals, such as the two of you." Grasping the ball in his hand, Roger closed his eyes. He seemed as though he were swallowing something bitter. "Nate's body. His name was Nate River."

Origin stepped forward, his shoed feet squashing the carpet beneath them. "Why are you telling us this?"His voice was slow and methodical, as though every word was measured carefully before spoken. "I've been told that even L's name was not revealed upon his death."

"You two are to be investigating the case," replied Roger. "Long before he died, Nate requested that his successor be chosen by competition. This only seems fitting. When one of you solves the case, you will be granted N's title and you will have access to his resources."

"If you cannot win at the game, if you cannot solve the puzzle, you are just another loser." Hachi stood up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. The stream of tears had slowed to a halt. "And I will win at the game."

Origin grinned, a row of white teeth revealed beneath his lips. "I will solve the puzzle."


End file.
